


Day One

by mandathegreat



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angsty Schmoop, M/M, Smut, Walkers (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandathegreat/pseuds/mandathegreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Day One: My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am currently in Atlanta, Georgia. I am recording myself, and my experiences, because—well, I don’t know. I think it’s the end of the world—“</p><p>Arthur and Alfred meet at the end of the world. They are going to have to learn to survive.</p><p>USUK Walking Dead AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is a walking dead AU. I will probably write more for this AU, just in stories, not in chapters.

“Day One: My name is Arthur Kirkland, and I am currently in Atlanta, Georgia. I am recording myself, and my experiences, because—well, I don’t know. I think it’s the end of the world—“  
  


*LOUD CRASHING SOUND*

  
“—Oh fucking hell, RUN!”

…  
  


Walkers. They were calling them walkers. It sounded appropriate, in that slow drawl all the southerners spoke with, but out of his mouth, it was simply a name to represent all the horrors he had seen. In just one day, Arthur’s life had changed for good. He had about three energy bars and a bottle of water. He was a thousand miles from home, not knowing if the disease or the plague or whatever the hell this was had spread there too. Not that anyone was waiting for him, he couldn’t go back, he couldn’t—

Lost in his thoughts, he was startled by the feeling of hands grabbing his shoulders. He shouted, but a hand reached out and covered his mouth. A voice whispered in his ear.

“Dude! You are gonna get eaten walkin’ around all lost and panicky like that. And don’t yell, they hear better than a fuckin’ animal.”

A human, then. Not…one of them. He spun around and gazed upon the man who pulled him out of his thoughts. Young, maybe a few years younger than him. Tall, and likely strong, from the looks of him.

“My name is Alfred.” He extended a hand.

“Arthur.” He shook it, noticing the guns strapped to a holster over his jeans.

“D’ya have anyone with you here, Arthur?” Alfred looked around, tense, ready to shoot at anything that moved.

Arthur looked around, but was unsure of what exactly he was looking for.

“No, I’m—I’m all alone.” Nothing new for Arthur, but Alfred couldn’t have known that.

Alfred sighed. “I really shouldn’t do this. The world is ending, you know? But, I can’t just leave you here. I mean, what kind of hero does that?”

“Wha--?” Alfred grabbed his arm again, this time pulling him along at a hurried pace.

“C’mon. I have a set up at the Air Force base halfway to Marietta. You’re staying with me.”

…

 

“Day Three: My name is Arthur Kirkland and I am at the U.S. Air Force Base outside of Atlanta. The base is abandoned, clearly, but there’s food here, a little bit at least, and bottled water. According to Alfred, that’s a better deal than most people have gotten since the outbreak. Alfred is…interesting. I don’t quite understand his optimism, but I know for certain that without him I would have died in Atlanta.” 

*Muffled voice*

“I’ll be there in a minute, Alfred.”

…

 

Alfred had set up camp inside of the hangar, where there had once been many planes. He had strung up tarps and cloths with rope and fishing lines (“Where’d you learn to do that?” “Boy Scouts,”) and was storing food close to where he slept, on the ripped up cushions of broken chairs and couches. It smelled like jet fuel, and there was nothing to do, but the door had a lock, and that was most important.

“What do you need?” Arthur asked.

“I need you to take inventory of the food and water I have. It’s all separated into rations, so you’ll need to count how much we have. I’m gonna go and check for walkers around the base. Sometimes, a walker or two will get through the fences. It should take about ten minutes.” He drawled.

“Alright.” He wondered how Alfred knew how to set up a camp like this, how he was so comfortable around guns, but he didn’t know how to ask.

He began counting the rations. There were non-perishables around, cans and jars of all sorts of stuff, but actually not a lot of it. He counted thirty portions of food in total. So that was thirty for two of them.

Fifteen. They had food for the next fifteen days. And Arthur’s three energy bars. Maybe sixteen days then.

That wasn’t a lot of days. Fifteen days. And then what? Would they have to hunt? Go ransacking abandoned places? Would they die from starvation or would the walkers get to them first—Arthur felt himself breathing heavily, felt the cold seep into his bones from his spot on his knees against hard concrete, and didn’t hear Alfred as he called his name over and over until he shook his shoulders.

“Dude! You have got to stop getting into your head like that!” Alfred looked almost angry for a second, but his expression changed to sympathetic quickly, and pulled Arthur into a hug. It was the first time Arthur had felt close to someone in a while.

Alfred sighed. “I know it sucks, Arthur. I know it’s awful. Believe me, I _know_. But, we’re still here. I’d like to believe we’re here for a reason.”

Arthur let himself sink into the embrace.

…

 

“Day Seven: My name is Arthur Kirkland and I remain in the Air Force Base outside of Atlanta. Our inventory of food and water is estimated to last eleven days. I am not familiar with the surrounding area, but Alfred grew up here. He says that we’re not all that close to the ocean. Our best bet would be to remain here for a few days, and then pack up the rest of the supplies and head north. I hope he’s right. Alfred is—well, he is—“

“A hot piece of ass?”

“More like a hot piece of shite! You scared the crap out of me you tosser!”

*Muffled sounds, vague swears*

…

 

“Hey Arthur.”

Arthur was so bored that he felt like he was melting. He liked the luxuries of the modern age, liked his Kindle and his MacBook, and was even known to occasionally partake in the “Netflix and Chill.” He was only twenty-three years old. Although the past couple of days had likely aged him by a hundred years.

“Hey Arthur!”

He could survive without electricity. He had this tape recorder that he used for interviews. He loved to write, loved to read—but there was nothing in this base. No form of entertainment whatsoever. Unless, of course, you count Alfre—

“ARTHUR!”

“For Christ’s sakes, _what_!?” He had the sinking suspicion that he’d let his mind wander for a bit too long.

“I’m so _bored_.” Although he agreed, Arthur rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m not enough entertainment for you during this little _apocalypse_ thing we’re having. Honestly, what did you do to keep occupied _before_ you brought me here?” Arthur knew he was whining, but he felt like it was justified.

Alfred rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “Honestly?” He asked, voice lilting up at the end.

“Yes _honestly_. I wouldn’t want you to lie to me.” Arthur grabbed for his bottle of water and took a drink.

“Well, I jacked off.” And promptly, he spit out his water.

“Oh.” Arthur said, both surprised and not surprised.

“And there’s a bottle of whiskey laying around here somewhere. So that’s what I would do, drink whiskey and—“

“Okay! Okay. I think I got the picture. For fuck’s sake.” Alfred smiled, close mouthed, different from his usual one.

“What? I am a hot-blooded, twenty-one year old male. It’s only natural. Right?” He held out the vowel in _right_ , exaggerated his drawl to comic proportions.

Arthur couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “Is that how old you are? Twenty-one? I was wondering.”

“Yeah. I guess we don’t really know a lot about each other.” He had a point. Arthur hummed in agreement. Alfred’s face suddenly lit up with an idea.

“Oh! I know! Let’s play twenty questions!” Arthur felt himself make a face.

“What, you don’t wanna?” Alfred looked like a golden retriever when he pouted. Arthur had to concede.

“Fine. Bring the whiskey.” Alfred’s whoop of victory filled the hangar as he dug underneath his makeshift bed and pulled out a half-full bottle of Jack.

He sat down in front of Arthur, put the whiskey in-between them, and began to speak.

“Game rules. We each answer ten questions, and we must answer honestly. Okay?” Alfred was smiling like a fiend. It was pretty endearing, that smile of his.

“Fine. How does the whiskey play into this?”

“Oh, we’re just gonna drink it.” His blue eyes looked happy beneath his glasses.

Arthur smiled. “Fine by me.” He opened the cap on the Jack and took a swig,

“I’ll start, then. Question one: How did you know how to do all this, set up a camp, make rations?”

Alfred took a sip as well. “My dad was in the Air Force. Worked right here at this base until like three days ago when one of those _things_ ate him in Atlanta.” He took another swig of the whiskey.

“Holy shit,” Arthur couldn’t stop himself from saying. “I’m sorry, Al.”

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “No, it’s not okay, but I’m trying to be okay. I need to live, and he taught me how to do it. How to pitch a tent, how to improvise, how to shoot a gun, the whole nine yards.”

Arthur reached out, put his hand over his in a gesture of comfort. Alfred accepted it, and Arthur felt relief at the small smile on his face.

“Well, c’mon. Ask me the other questions.” He seemed to be bracing himself.

“We don’t have to play anymore of you don’t—“

“No, no! I think this is good, saying our shit out loud.”

And so Arthur proceeded to ask him the remaining questions. Alfred grew up in Marietta, near the Air Force Base. His father had been stationed there for a long time, and his mother died when Alfred was 11. He was going to university in at U of A nearby on scholarship, and studying aerospace engineering. He wanted to be an astronaut. Arthur felt that his image of Alfred was expanding, like he was seeing Alfred as a person who had a real life, and not just the Alfred he’d met at the end of the world.

Among the most important news was that Alfred had a twin brother, Matthew. Matthew was apparently attending university at McGill in Montreal, Canada. Arthur was putting the pieces together, understanding why Alfred wanted to go north as soon as possible.

Arthur flinched as Alfred poked his nose, exclaiming, “Now it’s your turn, mister.”

The whiskey was down to maybe a quarter now, so they put it away, saving it for later. He definitely felt a buzz going in his head.

“What’s a proper English guy doin’ all the way in the heart o’ Dixie?”

Arthur sighed. “It’s kind of complicated.”

“Well, we’ve got all night.” Alfred must have noticed his hesitation. “C’mon, I’m not gonna judge you—unless you’re a cold blooded killer. Then I’ll probably judge you.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m from a conservative family. They’re very opinionated, and while I could usually just ignore them and live my life, they had noticed that I was in a relationship, you know, with a man.” He looked up at Alfred, looking for any kind of judgment, and found none.

“So they were very displeased with me, like I had somehow failed my parents and brothers because I chose to be happy or some shit like that. Anyway, my father, he’s kind of an important guy, and he called up my office—“

“What do you do?” Alfred interrupted.

“That’s a question. I’m a journalist.”

“Oh. Explains the tape recorder. Please, go on.”

“Well, he calls up my office and manages to get me fired. And, he got my boyfriend fired, too. Well, the guy was so mad that he just left me right then and there. Kicked me out, too. So I was so, so very done with England as a whole, because they all just rejected me. I knew I had to leave, so I closed my eyes and put my finger on a map, and it landed on Atlanta, Georgia. It was the riskiest things I’ve ever done, but I was so sick of their ignorance.”

Alfred smiled. More like smirked, really. His skin was slightly flushed from the whiskey.

“What, smartass?”

“You’re trying to get away from ignorance and you came to the American South?” He laughed.

“I know it seems dumb, I’ve heard things, but I don’t actually know anyone who lives here and if I met anyone like that, I wouldn’t associate with them. They’re not my family.”

Alfred calmed down. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. All those guys who called me a fag in high school are probably among the ranks of the walkers, or dead as a doornail.”

Alfred statement threw Arthur for a loop. “Wait, what do—“

“Ah-ah Limey, you already asked me my ten questions. It’s my turn.”

“Fine.” He hoped they wouldn’t get so heavy again.

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-three.” Alfred had mischief in his eyes.

“Are you into younger men?” Arthur smacked him lightly on the shoulder. He laughed.

“Behave.” Arthur hoped he wasn’t blushing like an idiot.  
  
“You didn’t answer it!”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter if it’s a few years younger or older.”

Alfred pretended to consider that. He moved to speak again.

“Do you trust me?” With what? His life? Well, if it weren’t for Alfred, Arthur knew he’d be dead in Atlanta.

“Yes, I think so. You’ve helped me a lot, I don’t think you’ll stop now.”

“Can I kiss you?” And there it was. He mused over it for a second. Alfred was certainly attractive. He was strong, with a runner’s body, all lean muscle. He had this golden field of hair, brilliant blue eyes, and though Arthur hated even thinking it, he found his slow drawl very, very sexy. The whiskey had taken the edge off, removed his hesitation.

“Oh, what the hell,” he said, and pulled Alfred down into a kiss. Alfred seemed almost shocked that Arthur allowed this, but then he was kissing back with enthusiasm. A talented tongue sneaked between his lips as the kiss became more intense. Arthur hummed in enjoyment as Alfred’s warm hands travelled down his body to grab his hips. It was a nice kiss, and Alfred was a good kisser, but he tried to push Arthur to lie back against the cold hangar floor, and they had to break their momentum to move to the makeshift bed.

Arthur lay back on the fabric, laughing at the juvenile joy Alfred expressed as he crawled on top of him to kiss him again. They spent long minutes just exploring each other’s mouths, gently caressing with hands until Arthur found himself wanting more. They broke apart for air and Arthur used the opportunity to rid them both of their shirts. He ran his hands across Alfred’s lean muscle, feeling the way his belly twitched from the attention. Alfred made a grab for Arthur again, this time sucking marks into his neck rather than kissing his lips.

Alfred’s voice was in his ear then. “Is this alright? Can I touch you?”

He pulled back and Arthur couldn’t help the whine that came out of him.

“You better,” he commanded, yanking the boy back down for more. Alfred was decidedly more aggressive then, which was fine by Arthur. He enjoyed the feeling of big hands tweaking nipples, caressing his stomach, and grabbing at his ass, while soft lips pressed against his throat, his jaw, his lips. Arthur wasn’t just lying there, though. His hands were aggressive in their own way, knotted in golden hair, fingernails drawing red lines down a strong back.

Alfred had managed to shove both of their jeans down past their knees, and Arthur gasped as he felt Alfred pull his cock out of his boxers, stroking him off with a delicate strength. Arthur had never really thought much about handjobs, but Alfred’s hands were so, _so_ nice that for a minute he _did_ just lay there, possessed by the feeling.

He was able to regain the ability to speak after a moment. “Well, you are certainly good at wanking, that’s for sure.”

Alfred snorted, but not unattractively. “I’ve had years and years of practice.”

Arthur was calm in their lightheartedness, at their moment of peace. But he wanted more, wanted to feel Alfred more intimately. Need burned inside of him. He sat up, leaning on Alfred and their bed of cushions to balance their tangle of legs.

“What else are you good at?” Arthur heard the sex coming off of his own voice in waves. He reached into Alfred’s boxers, pulled out his cock, and stroked it, together with his own. They both moaned together, and Alfred resumed stroking both of them as well. He began to reach down past their “bed” to his backpack. Arthur began to question him, when Alfred left out an “ah-ha!” and held up a bottle of hand lotion.

“Clever boy.” Arthur said. He kicked off his jeans and boxers, fully naked in front of Alfred, who quickly did the same. Alfred’s eyes had darkened from his sky blue to something deeper, something tinged with lust.

“Do you know how to use that big cock of yours?” Arthur liked to stroke his partner’s ego, but in this case, he wasn’t even exaggerating. Alfred was working with some heavy equipment, and Arthur wanted to feel every inch of it. His subconscious told him that he was being a slut, but his judgment was clouded. By the time he heard Alfred reverently say, “Oh my god, you are so hot,” he didn’t even care.

Alfred practically pounced on top of him then, kissing him hard, grip on his hips like iron. He spoke, quiet but intensely:

“I want you so bad, Arthur. Can we do this?” His eyes looked worried that Arthur might suddenly reject him. So Arthur took it upon himself to cup Alfred’s face in his hands, and kiss him sweetly.

“Of course we can, lovely.” Alfred smiled small, and then moved back between his legs. Arthur parted them for him, tried to focus on the feeling of safety and warmth they had made, instead of the reality of their cold, deserted airplane hangar. Alfred popped the top off his hand lotion and rubbed his hands together, warming it up as he moved towards Arthur’s entrance. He felt it then, two fingers circling, caressing, until his body relaxed. Alfred pressed a kiss to the inside of his knee before a finger was inside of him. He was good about it, going slowly—but not too slowly—so Arthur quickly was able to ask for more.

And more he received. Another finger entered him, just as carefully. He scissored those fingers, stretching, stretching, until he bumped—finally—against Arthur’s prostate. Arthur couldn’t help but cry out, and Alfred smiled again and abused the spot over and over once he added a third finger. It was nice, very nice, and as the dim lights coming through the high windows of the hangar illuminated Alfred’s golden hair, Arthur silently wondered how many boys Alfred had touched like this, before deciding that it didn’t even matter. After all, how many boys had _Arthur_ touched like this?

Finally— _finally_ —Alfred removed his fingers, and moved to slick up his straining cock. He lined himself up, winked—what a cheeky bastard—at Arthur with a grin, and pushed in. Arthur went from rolling his eyes to shutting them tight. Alfred had done a good job preparing him, but he was big, bigger than most of Arthur’s past partners, and it had been kind of a while for Arthur besides that. But then Alfred was all the way in, fingers gripping his hips so hard Arthur thought they might bruise, but aside from that, he was waiting rather patiently for Arthur to adjust.

Arthur took a few deep breaths. It was a lot, he was a lot, but he wanted every blasted inch of it.

“Move.” And that was all Alfred needed to hear before he pulled out and slammed back in. Arthur moaned at the feeling of being filled constantly, over and over. He was content, at first, to lie down and enjoy the way this beautiful boy wanted to fuck him, but after a while, he began to stroke his own need. Alfred had started to change angles, looking for his prostate, no doubt, but couldn’t seem to find it where he was.

Arthur desperately wanted to kiss him, but he couldn’t find the words. He gestured Alfred towards him, and Alfred complied, leaning forward, draping his chest over Arthur’s, and crashed their mouths together. Alfred was able to fuck deeper in this position, and his cock brushed directly against his prostate. Arthur moaned loud into his mouth, and that was the sign Alfred needed to pick up the pace.

He began to piston his hips in that direction, creating an audible smack of skin on skin, earning moan after moan from both men. Alfred slapped Arthur’s hand away from his cock and began to stroke him in time to his thrusts, thumbing the head every couple of thrusts. Alfred was beginning to lose control, thrusts losing rhythm but not strength, and Arthur was so, so close.

He didn’t even have the time to warn Alfred before he was moaning and coming into his hand, wetness coating their stomachs. Alfred tried to hold on, groaning, but Arthur could feel his hole pulsing around him, and soon after felt Alfred’s cock twitching and spilling wet warmth inside of him.

The next couple of moments were silent aside from rapid panting from the both of them. Arthur made Alfred roll over onto the cushions when he felt his cock start to go soft inside of him, but when he pulled out, he just felt empty.

Alfred broke their silence.

“That was—hell, that was really somethin’.” He laughed, breathy.

Arthur agreed.

“Yeah, it was.”

They didn’t have much to say, and Arthur began to panic. Did this change everything? Was it going to be awkward between them now? Was Alfred even going to be there when he woke up? Or worse, was he going to kick him out t—

“Arthur,” He locked eyes with him. “You’re doing it again. Panicking. I—This ain’t gonna change anything between us. Well, not in a bad way.” He chuckled.

Arthur felt relief surge through him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just been a hell of a week.” And Alfred laughed. It was a bitter one.

“A hell of a week at the end of the world. I get it, Arthur.” He sat up, and pulled Arthur close to him. “But, we’re alive. And I know we just met. But, I think I really care about you.”

Arthur could feel his heartbeat. Honestly, this boy was going to drive him crazy. He replied: “I think I really care about you too, lovely.”

Alfred smiled, small. He probably had a radiant smile once, but now they never quite reached his eyes.

“And, I know we won’t let anything happen to each other. I need you to trust me, to promise me that we’re gonna make it through this.” He was dead serious.

“I promise.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the both were startled by a scream in the distance.

Alfred swore. “Tomorrow, we are leaving this place for good.”

“And right now?” Arthur asked, unsure.

Alfred looked at him, and for the first time, Arthur realized that Alfred was just as terrified as him.

“Right now, I’m just gonna hold you, and you’re just gonna hold me, and as long as we’re holding on to each other, we’ll be alright.”

And that’s how the two of them fell asleep, pressed together, close enough that even the bleak future that lay ahead of them couldn’t chill their warmth.

 

END.


End file.
